FMA Drabbles
by Icy Wolf Rage
Summary: Just a small collection of drabbles that will be updated every once in a while for Full Metal Alchemist. FMA never gets old. Blame this on Spades 44 and Dustwind though, their drabbles are entirely too good not to get engrossed in the subject.
1. Default Chapter

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A/N - Just something I couldn't get out of my head. Not very good, could've been better... but I just needed it out of my head in order to sleep . 

Disclaimer - No one is surprised to know I don't own FMA...

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** Fair Play  
**

Now _this_ was an interesting watch, Havoc mused, smoke rising past eyes that sparkled with sheer amusement at the two opposing forces.

Mustang, leaning back in his chair with interlaced fingers, and Ed, palms flat against the Colonel's desk as he leaned forward. Neither moved, neither spoke, they just glared.

Or rather, the eldest Elric was glaring while Roy was looking smug per usual.

It never got old.

The soft click of the door as it closed signaled a new participant in the room. Funny, Havoc hadn't heard it open in the first place. Strange. He wasn't _that_ engrossed in the scene, was he?

"Lieutenant, don't you think... What's going on?"

"Dunno. Just got here a few minutes ago myself, Riza."

"Haven't they noticed?"

"Nope."

"Colonel?" Hawkeye's single word query was not of concern, nor disapproval, but it did seem to question the man's sanity. A, '_Sir? Are you in there?_' type deal. His only answer was the widening of his trademark smirk.

Hawkeye turned her head to Havoc, the manilla folder now hugged protectively to her chest. "Know what this is about?" A simple shake of his head told her that he didn't.

Suddenly, as if coming to an unspoken conclusion that caused the two watchers to jump, Ed loudly declared with a clap of his hands, "A rematch then! Good! You'll give it your all, making it a _real_ win for me this time. No gloves, no instant transmutations. A fair play of wits!"


	2. Weakness

**A/N** - Turned out to be a slightly longer than drabble-ish drabble. Sorry. And also, I think it turned out pretty crappy, but I couldn't look at it any more. Hawkeye x Roy is definitely not one of my more loved couples. Ok, it's one of my most hated couples, but this was for a friend who's a little down at the moment. Hope you guys can get some enjoyment from it, I know she did.

And lots of hugs to my two reviewers for the Havoc drabble. You made me very happy. I really need a Roy/Havoc drabble... hmm, guess it's time to let the muses play on that one.

**Disclaimer **- If I ever get the rights to FMA, I'll let you know...

**Weakness**

He's sleeping again; head cushioned on arms at his desk, soft snores that rival that of the tiniest babe filling the office, his features slackened without the usual stress lines of the day and I smile fondly at the sight of this angel in fighter's clothing.

He's worn himself out once again.

Silently, knowing that the nights are growing chilly with the upcoming threat of winter, I move across the room and drape a blanket across his shoulders, watching with a tender lilt I'm unaware of using.

Most men would crumble under the stress he carries, the sheer weight alone more than any one person should have to bear, yet he takes it in stride. A sarcastic stride, yet one none the less. He plays himself off as arrogant, smug and nonchalant, a slacker in the high ranks of a militarized society, yet I've seen the man behind the mask. Somehow, the paperwork he complains night and day about is always signed on time; he's a friend to the soldiers; a father-type to the Elrics... and a weakness to me.

My training keeps me from falling for his smooth words, wry humor, a hug here and a kiss there, but it's harder with every passing day to keep to my shadows. Sideway glances and stolen kisses only go so far, and I'm nearly at the end of a too-short rope here. As a private, I learned how to shoot a fly off a wall 50 paces away. I never learned how to brush aside the attempts of a smooth talking man who cares more for others than his own life. Somehow, I feel that would've been time better spent, yet I know I mustn't get in his way. Too much rides on his becoming Furher. His succession is all that matters, because any one who really knows him understands that 'tiny mini-skirts' are not what he's fighting for.

To fight for oneself is a selfish reason, and he is not a selfish man.

So people won't be afraid of speaking out of turn, for fear they may be carted off for treason; so that the only spread of 'war' will be the stories passed down to the younger generations; so children can grow up with both parents, instead of having only one or less.

His past is not something he wishes on anyone, be it friend or foe, and this is why he fights, and why I will stay by his side, always a constant. I wish to share that world with him, right beside him, whether it be for better or worse. Nothing is certain in this world, so it's up to people like us to change that. I take on this responsibility without remorse. I'm not afraid for myself; I only fear for him. Better men than he have tried to obtain the New World Order, and failed. I will not run if this becomes our case, though I fear it may come down to it. Through thick and thin, I'll be there, and even though I can't say that I love _him_, I can say that I love the man he wishes he were.

And that's enough for me.

With a kiss to his sleeping head, I retrace my steps back into the hall. It's all I can afford at the moment, because I refuse to take his concentration off what is important. Yet as I close the door on one man's imaginary world, I'm unaware that he, too, smiles.

Fin


	3. Military Wit

Characters: Mustang, Hawkeye and mentions of Hughes

Disclaimer: I truly don't own FMA, and none of you are surprised.

A/N - This was to prove to a friend that I can't write fluff. My main area of 'expertise' is torture, angst, and hurt without the comfort. So please, do not run away screaming in abject horror after reading. Thank you.

**Torii** - Thanks for the review on 'Obsession'! I'll make sure to do a Havoc/Roy one just for you!

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:Military Wit:

"Sir? I just saw Major Hughes, and he's acting quite strangely, even for him."

"Oh? Is that so?" an innocence that Mustang did not possess laced the question, but he grinned with the usual smug amusement which sent a chill down Hawkeye's spine.

It was a look that equaled trouble.

"You two are at it again, aren't you?" a sigh of fated acceptance filled the room. "You two really must stop making bets every time he's in town. The last time he was here, an entire block had to be shut down for a month while repairs on its' 'crispy' buildings took place. So, even though I'm afraid to ask, what's the damage this time?"

In a split second, his grin grew larger, though he didn't answer, letting all the 'could-be's' run through his Lieutenants mind. There was really only one conclusion that could be reached after what she'd seen Hughes doing. She was a smart woman. She'd know what was in store.

He was right. It only took a moment for her to reach that conclusion. "Oh no. Sir? Please don't tell me that you finally caved in on his request?"

A curt nod, the grin taking on an approving quality. "Lieutenant, do make sure the auditorium is set up for a five-hour slide show by tomorrow morning, would you? And make sure the men understand this is a mandatory meeting."

Another sigh, this time of annoyance. "I knew it was bad, considering Hughes is prancing around in a red sequined dress in the courtyard, singing 'I Feel Pretty' in a high falsetto voice. I had been wondering why Fuery was taking pictures though. At least now I understand that part."

"Teachings of blackmail are a required course at the military university, you know. And I don't own a camera."

"Of course. Wait, sir?" she began, as a sudden thought struck her, "aren't you leaving for the East City Conference tonight?"

Mustang's grin grew to it's maximum allowance, the smug factor tripled. "Do let me know how everything goes tomorrow, won't you Lieutenant?"

Fin


End file.
